


Cutting Corners

by saltstreets



Series: Quidditch is a game of two halves and other cliches [1]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 16:23:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9829229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltstreets/pseuds/saltstreets
Summary: The truth is that Xabi isn’t even cheating when Benitez catches him watching Gerrard out of the corner of his eye. He isn’t. Xabi doesn’t cheat. Or at least, not often. And not in Benitez’s Charms class. He doesn’t need to cheat inCharms.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A small fic inspired by [this lovely bit of art](http://irenydraws.tumblr.com/post/154290228764/i-mean-here-you-are-if-you-could-draw-xabi) by the talented, gorgeous, Nobel Peace Prize-winning Ireny. The rest of her Hogwarts AU art is also fantabulous, so go check it out!
> 
> This is pretty gen-y pre-slash but look...we're all just passengers on the gerlonso train.

 

The truth is that Xabi isn’t even cheating when Benitez catches him watching Gerrard out of the corner of his eye. He isn’t. Xabi doesn’t _cheat._ Or at least, not often. And not in Benitez’s Charms class. He doesn’t need to cheat in _Charms._

He’s looking at Gerrard, but not at Gerrard’s parchment. Well, maybe he is looking at the parchment. But not the content. Xabi knows what he’s going to write for his short essay on sensory augmentation and he doesn’t need to be sneaking a glimpse of Gerrard’s work for any inspiration. He’s already written the opening segment introducing the angle he was going to take, if Benitez would only _look_ it would be obvious that Xabi isn’t at a loss for ideas. He’d only happened to glance Gerrard’s way for a moment and his eye had been caught, interested.

Gerrard is a popular figure in their year: prefect, Hufflepuff Quidditch captain, universally friendly. Xabi doesn’t know much about him beyond that. The times that Slytherin has had double class with Hufflepuff, Gerrard hasn’t stood out much to Xabi. Not a particularly brilliant student but not an exceptionally bad one, either. Very good at Quidditch –he would be, as house captain- though there have only been a few matches for Xabi to see that for himself.

But he’s inexplicably fascinating out of the corner of Xabi’s eye, sat next to him and curled determinedly over the roll of parchment, writing furiously in small lines of cramped but neat script.

Xabi’s first reaction is amusement. Gerrard is the very picture of concentration, his brow furrowed and his mouth twisted at the corner, clearly scribbling as quickly as he possibly can. But it’s quite impressive really, and Xabi, who’s been somewhat languidly putting down his ideas, picks up the pace of his looping words. He keeps shooting sideways glances at Gerrard as he works; he can’t quite help it. Xabi is curious as to what Gerrard is writing.

Which is when Benitez sees him looking. “Alonso!” he snaps, “Eyes on your _own_ parchment and keep them there!”

Xabi doesn’t go red, which he’s rather pleased about. He simply levels a look at Benitez which may actually border on slightly rude, and goes back to his essay. He wants to see if Gerrard had looked up, but doesn’t glance his way again at the risk of incurring further wrath.

 

He doesn’t know if it was the stare he’d sent the professor’s way or if Benitez was always going to tick him off, but as he gets called back as the class is filing out for Benitez to administer a stern warning. Xabi nods along and looks appropriately shame-faced. He figures the quickest way is to just go along with assumed sneaking, and since he wants Benitez to let him leave as soon as possible, it’s worth the small dent on his character (he’s taken worse) and the five points Benitez docks Slytherin. (He can earn them back double by the end of the day if he really puts the effort in during Divination. Mourinho likes him.)

When he finally wriggles free the corridor is already bustling with students moving between classes, but Xabi manages to spot Gerrard leaning against the banister of the staircase down the end of the wing, chatting with a small gaggle of students.

He fights his way down the corridor towards Gerrard, getting nearly bowled over by a minor herd of first years spilling out of a nearby classroom in the process.

Gerrard breaks off his conversation when Xabi struggles over, a less dignified approach than he’d have liked, but Gerrard says hello and smiles politely.

“I wasn’t cheating from you,” Xabi says, foregoing the pleasantries for his point. He’s not entirely sure why, but it’s important that Gerrard know that. Xabi doesn’t like the idea that Gerrard might think poorly of him. “In Benitez’s class. I would not have.”

Gerrard tilts his head slightly. “Alonso, right?”

Xabi nods, if a bit surprised that Gerrard knows who he is. But then again, they have shared a few classes, and it can’t be too common for fifth years to have a newcomer added to their ranks. Xabi has done his best not to be too ostensibly new to Hogwarts, but as a transfer student he was always going to stick out.

“Carra mentioned you. From Potions,” says Gerrard casually with a flick of his head to the tall boy in Gryffindor colours standing next to him. Xabi blinks: he hadn’t even noticed who the other student was, focused in on Gerrard as he had been, but he does know him. Carragher had been paired with him in double Potions the last week after point-blank refusing to work with a fellow Gryffindor. They hadn’t spoken much beyond the necessary deliberations over their concoction, but Carragher had been a diligent and easy partner, and stood out in Xabi’s memory for having preferred to work with a Slytherin over the dark haired, angry-looking Gryffindor whom he’d been originally paired with.

He gives Carragher a nod and receives a grin in return. “Yeah, I told Stevie how I nearly chopped both our fingers off dicing that root-thing.”

Xabi acknowledges that Carragher had indeed endangered a number of digits while in charge of the silver-bladed dagger they had been using, although he is still distracted waiting for Gerrard to give him a proper response. He has yet to come up with a reason for valuing Gerrard’s opinion so highly, asides from simply that Gerrard has a determined writing style that Xabi likes.

“Carra also said you were dead smart,” says Gerrard with a faint smile, “and everyone knows I’m useless at written tests, so. Doesn’t seem likely you were copying off me. You’re off the hook, mate.”

“Oh,” says Xabi, almost surprised that Gerrard seems so unbothered by it. He’d thought that perhaps as a prefect Gerrard would take accusations of cheating more seriously. “Well. I did not. Thank you.”

The mass of students in the corridor is thinning, and Carragher jerks his head in the direction of the staircase. “Alright, I’m shifting. I’ve got early Quidditch practice.”

“Lucky you. I’ve still got History of Magic.” Gerrard pulls a face.

“You say lucky. Redders wants us to do a leg day. Just sprints. Endless sprints.”

“He does realise that the sport is played in the air, right? There’s no running in Quidditch.”

Carragher shrugs helplessly. “If I bring it up he’ll just go off on us about full body fitness or what. That’s what we get, having a captain whose dad coaches Muggle football.”

He gives them a wave and lopes off down the staircase. Xabi watches him go with amusement.

Gerrard pushes himself away from the banister with a sigh. “Oughta be off as well. Catch you later, Alonso?” He phrases his words as a question rather than a generic farewell, and looks at Xabi expectantly as if waiting for a genuine answer.

“Xabi,” says Xabi, making the decision that he quite likes Gerrard. “Yes, catch you later.”

Gerrard beams. “Cheers, Xabi,” he says, mangling Xabi’s name in a way that Xabi finds charming despite himself, and strolls off down the corridor.

Xabi stares after him for a solid minute before turning to the staircase. It’s gone, swung off to the corridor across the way, and he curses. He’s going to be late for Arithmancy.

Nevertheless, he feels unexpectedly cheerful as he dashes off down the hall in search of an accommodating set of stairs.

 


End file.
